John 1: 43-51 (Psalm 139, Samuel 3:1-20)
It’s easy to get lost in the words. We hear a lot of them: our news channels are full to talking, but not enough substance to warrant 24 hours of coverage. I was shocked and appalled to see the lunch menus of Obama’s daughters reported as news. Lunch items for upper and lower elementary, and commentary on whether or not kids would eat things like tomato basil soup. I’m sure other things are going on in the world that we need to know about before a school cafeteria’s offerings. Beyond the superfluity of these words, there’s also the manipulation—just because it’s spoken aloud, on tv, or in the newspapers, doesn’t make it true—or even terribly meaningful. . . lost in a sea of words!
In the field of linguistics, there is a category of speech called “words that change the world.” This is for spoken phrases that change the reality of the world, even if it’s a small part. They are things like “I now pronounce you husband and wife” before the phrase the bride and groom are two single people, and afterwards they are a married couple. It’s like the naming of a child. Or the reading of a verdict. Part of the world has changed.
There are other words that change our lives, even if it’s not the words themselves that do the changing. A phone call. A doctor’s announcement. A complaint. Praise from a colleague. A note of support in difficult times.
In today’s reading, we have many such words and phrases that can change our lives.
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days,” we are told in Samuel, “visions were not widespread.” Surely, we can imagine such a time. It’s all that more spectacular when the Lord calls Samuel, by name. Again and again, until Samuel realizes that it’s God.
God calls to Samuel in the night to tell him: “I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.” Samuel goes on to become a great prophet whose words did not fall to the ground, but were purposeful and heard and did not fall on deaf ears.
Jesus tells Philip to “follow me” and he does. Philip tells Nathanael to “come and see.” He does and his world is changed. “When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" Jesus tells Nathanael “you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” Nathanael is obedient to Philips’ call to turn toward Jesus. Jesus then recognizes in Nathanael his worthy character, which he shares with Nathanael who is then further convinced that the king of Israel can really come out of Nazareth after all.The simple words: follow me, come and see, spoken as Jesus gathers his disciples.
Psalm 139: Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, you know it completely. We can disappoint God, but we cannot surprise God! The God who has known us before we were born.
We cannot escape—we can turn away, but God has a plan and a purpose, knows what’s going on, and is working to bring about good in the world—is working to redeem us—to sanctify us—to bring us into right relationship with God and with each other. There is hope in the God for whom darkness is not dark.
If we listen to prophetic voices in our time, we continue to hear the needed words of creation, epiphany, and hope.
Martin Luther King, Jr changed the world with his words. As both minister and political advocate. He could not believe that God would truly want such inequality and treatment for Americans of African descent.
Excerpt form his last speech, that he gave in Memphis for a workers’ strike, the night before he was assassinated. . . words that cover an historic sweep, and speak to us today some 40 years later:
“If I were standing at the beginning of time, with the possibility of general and panoramic view of the whole human history up to now, and the Almighty said to me, “Martin Luther King, which age would you like to live in?”—I would take my mental flight by Egypt through, or rather across the Red Sea, through the wilderness on toward the promised land. And in spite of its magnificence, I wouldn’t stop there. I would move on by Greece, and take my mind to Mount Olympus. And I would see Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Euripides and Aristophanes assembled around the Parthenon as they discussed the great and eternal issues of reality.
But I wouldn’t stop there. I would go on, even to the great heyday of the Roman Empire. And I would see developments around there, through various emperors and leaders. But I wouldn’t stop there. I would even come up to the day of the Renaissance, and get a quick picture of all that the Renaissance did for the cultural and esthetic life of man. But I wouldn’t stop there. I would even go by the way that the man for whom I’m named had his habitat. And I would watch Martin Luther as he tacked his ninety-five theses on the door at the church in Wittenburg.
But I wouldn’t stop there. I would come on up even to 1863, and watch a vacillating president by the name of Abraham Lincoln finally come to the conclusion that the had to sign the Emancipation proclamation. But I wouldn’t stop there, I would even come up to the early thirties, and see a man grappling with the problems of the bankruptcy of his nation. And come with an eloquent cry that we have nothing to fear but fear itself.
But I wouldn’t stop there. Strangely enough, I would turn to the Almighty, and say, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy.” Now that’s a strange statement to make, because the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion is all around. That’s a strange statement. But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars. And I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a way that men, in some strange way, are responding—something is happening in our world. The masses of people are rising up. And wherever they are assembled today, whether they are in Johannesburg, South Africa; Nairobi, Kenya; Accra Ghana; New York City; Atlanta, Georgia; Jackson, Mississippi; or Memphis, Tennessee—the cry is always the same—“we want to be free.”[1]
And the final words of this speech, his last public words:
“I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”[2]
In these days, when words from God seem rare . . .
When near messianic hopes are pinned on a very human president. When we face crisis and transition on so many levels which may mean changing the way we do business, changing the way we view ourselves, and stumbling in the dark, until we can find the light of a way forward. The path isn’t always clear and crystal cut, we sometimes must feel lost and scared, even when we’re moving ahead, following the divine spirit onward. As King says, sometimes only when it’s dark can we see the stars.
Whether you think that Tuesday is the culmination of great hope or a traffic nuisance, we are entering into a new era, we will all have to grapple with what that will mean for ourselves and our nation.
Whether we agree or not, I hope we can all pray for this transition, for our new leaders, and for the healing of our lands.
If we are to weather this storm, our hope lies, not in our financial securities, but in our commitment to God and to each other. In our ability to listen to the divine wisdom, to interpret it together, and hold tight to that which is good and true.
To come and see, to no longer hide in fear and darkness, but to come into the light of hope, to see what wondrous things God can do.
[1] King, Martin Luther. “I See the Promised Land” 1968
[2] “
